The Belle of the Ball
by Livie
Summary: (On hold)‘…on the twelfth stroke of midnight every night he shall feel all the heartbreak and sorrow of love, as the rose wraps tighter around his heart… and it will consume him, as it did me, lest he learns how to love…’ Beauty &B retelling, Belle’s P
1. Sweet Sixteen

A/n This is my first time on fairytale writing so tell me if it sucks. Based on Beauty and the Beast, Medieval times. Please R/R ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~  
  
This is my story. You can take it or leave it. It doesn't matter either way. I doubt that the truth will someday be known. Pretend I'm a lady; pretend that I was a beautiful blue blood noble who was swept off her feet into the realm of extraordinary. Ignore my past; ignore the fact that I was simply a pretty wrench who got lucky.  
  
I was 16 when it happened. The year it all happened. A dreamy faced, misty- eyed twit who was still young enough to believe in those fairy tales where Prince Charming would whisk the fair maiden off to a wedding. I was a fool back then, a fool to even think that love was like that- all glory and radiance without the passion and fiery hate that comes with the lust.  
  
They call me Belle. The Belle of the ball. I laugh when they call me that, laugh because I would think back to that day when I was still young. Smile and remember the day it started. My 16th birthday.  
  
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I had lived with my sisters as far back as I could recall. Father was a merchant, a man of power and wealth who divided his time making money and traveling as far away from his estates as possible. He was the kings merchant and was therefore considered practically noble. He was tall and imposing with dark tanned skin and dark blue eyes and black hair specked with grey. He had married twice, the first to Elaine's mother, second to Jewel's mother. My mother had been a prostitute who had conceived me with father, or so I've heard.  
  
Elaine was horrible, fat and overweight. She had frizzy orange hair and watery blue eyes. She did not speak much, but it was not because she was obtuse. It was because she had a dreadful short of cunning about her, a deep mean streak that seemed to characterize our family. Inheriting Fathers sense of economics, she was the stingiest women alive, and Father's favorite.  
  
Jewel. Beautiful and superficial. She had crinkled blond hair and deep midnight eyes, sweet rosebud lips the color of blood, and tanned skin. She was color, and music, and festivities to the males who flocked to court her. Jewel entertained her swoons shamelessly, endearing the poor buffoons to come back for more. More than one fellow has had his heart and funds broken by her laughing ways. Yet for all her flirting, and sly courting, she was a dumb as our cow Maisy, and she treated me like I didn't exist, like I was a coat stand. Besides her beauty was trivial to Silvia's Midnight charm.  
  
Sister Witch. My sister Silvia, the witch. Abused by the entire household, for since her 16th birthday she had been mute. She had hair so blonde it was white and she looked like an albino child with her translucent skin, but for her black eyes, eyes so dark that when you looked into them it was like looking into a whirlpool, a void of darkness. I knew that she was not mute, that she saw her silence as a refugee from the world. Jewel and Elaine were scared of her, and in their cruelness they locked her up in the attic with rats and mice for company. I would go up there, and hear the whirling and clicking of what I was sure was a loom.  
  
Last, and least comes me, Charmaine. Father barely remembered I existed. Elaine hated me because I was smarter than her and Jewel often thought I was a servant. I loved reading, and most of my time I spent in the library reading books, curled up on a leather couch.  
  
Many beautiful ladies in court feel the need to pretend that they are not beautiful, and to pretend that they do not know that they are lovely to charm a man. I have never seen the point in this. I was pretty, if not beautiful, and I've never felt the need to pretend I didn't know I was good looking. Pages and Squires chased after me and wooed me, but none of them kept my interest for too long. I was always too caught up in my fairy tales.  
  
I had ruddy golden hair and strange purple eyes that I didn't really like the color of. I had pale skin dotted lightly with freckles on my cheekbones and I was the biggest klutz. I was always tripping over things and I couldn't hold onto something long enough before it would crash down on the ground. The males I turned down called me conceited and stuck up, but they all had the same brain size as a monkey. Ona, our cook and my favorite person in the entire household said I walked around with my head in the clouds.  
  
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On my 16th birthday we received 'terrible' news. Father had lost favor with the king. The King had for months been a shadow after the disappearance of his son, and for months had been dreaming up conspiracies against all of court. He had executed his brother and his entire households of nobles for 'treason' to the crown, but never had we imagined he would turn on us. Father was the crowns merchant after all and much of the Royal Treasury's Treasures had come form his skills in Business Making.  
  
The King had invited us to prove our loyalty by giving expensive presents consisting of practically our entire fortune.  
  
Elaine went mad, and Jewel much the same too. They went around the house raving madly.  
  
'Oh what shall we do? We have barely enough money for the servants!'  
  
'My beautiful dresses. What shall I do without my beautiful new dresses?'  
  
None of this worried me too much. The king wasn't interested in books and so the library was safe. Oney had been in the family for too long, and besides she worked for nothing except her lodging so she would not be sent away. That was really all I cared about.. Fashion didn't interest me and in my opinion, the fewer servants we had the better. I mean, I had 3 handmaidens to help me dress each more for god's sake!  
  
I went to sleep with a clear head and my only disappointment being that the cake Ona baked for my birthday didn't have chocolate in it. I should have been more worried, I see that now.  
  
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I woke up to hear a dreadful commotion.  
  
There was screaming going on, and I threw on a coat and went downstairs to see what it was about. Elaine's face was the same color as a squashed tomato and she was so angry I swear I saw steam coming out her ears. She was pointing at someone and shouting at them. Spittle flew out of her lips. Jewel was sitting down, her hair up in rollers muttering something like. 'Oh, my poor head,' over and over again.  
  
She was shouting at Silvia who was standing defiantly, her hands holding long stems of some sort of grass. I'd never seen someone look so hatred filled and defiant as she was then. Her black eyes had a strange light in them and her pale lips were pressed together firmly.  
  
'Witch! Witch! Collecting herbs for your evil spells! This is all your fault! I'll have the Crown's Justice for this!'  
  
Silvia laughed, a cold evil laugh that sent shivers down my spine.  
  
Elaine's eyes popped.  
  
'YOU! You dare not bow down to me, your guardian! Bow down to me and beg for forgiveness!'  
  
Silvia laughed again.  
  
Elaine narrowed her eyes and whispered in a voice so chilling that even Jewel shut up about her head.  
  
'Guards! Take this miserable witch wrench out of my sight! Hang her tomorrow morning with the King's permission of course. Tell him that this is the cause of his demise.'  
  
The guards came and took Silvia away, who was still laughing that same cold laugh.  
  
I cried out, a stifled little sob. It was not right! Silvia was still my half sister, and she could not die by the orders of Elaine, who was breathing heavily and her face flashing pale and ruddy.  
  
She whirled around and glared at me.  
  
Her mouth was twisted into an unpleasant smirk and her eyes were triumphant.  
  
'You! Take off your nightgown! From now on, you serve your sister and me! Dress in servant rags. You are now no longer a lady. Report to Oney, first thing in the morning. Now get up to the Attic. You'll be sleeping there from now on.'  
  
I spun around my heel and ran up the stairs, determined not to cry. It's not that I don't like girls who cry, it's just that if cried over every sad thing in my life, I'd never have time to smile.  
  
I changed from my pretty nightgown into the plain brown tunic dress of a servant and sat down on my lumpy mattress, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.  
  
In the corner there was a dark shape. I lit a small candle and looked at it, and gasped. It was a loom! So Silvia had been working on it! Next to it were 7 small bundles.  
  
I looked at them closely and stood, stunned.  
  
They were robes, hard springy ones at that too. They were woven out of the same plant that I had seen Silvia hold just ten minutes ago! I frowned. What was going on?  
  
At that moment, the small window blew open. Curls of darkness snaked out snatched the robes. It wanted the one robe I held in my hands too, but I wasn't going to give it that. I could tell that the darkness was bad, and I can never tell what I did too make it go away. I think I worked some magic of my own that stopped it from getting the robe. At any rate, I was left holding a grass robe in my hands.  
  
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	2. Sister Witch

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I woke up the next morning as the sunbeams danced from the window and tickled my cheek.  
  
In the fresh rosebud golden pink light of dawn, the room was quite beautiful. The light flooded the room, gleaming off the white washed walls and lending warmth to the cold stone flood, staining its tiles with a sweet color.  
  
Even the loom in the corner looked less sinister than the night before. I shivered as I remembered the ominous curls of darkness from the night before. There was now a strange burn symbol on the place, a dark eye with white pupils halved with a line. Hesitating, I reached out and touched it, and flinched as a cold, burning numb sensation shot up my arm.  
  
Most normal girls would have now been scared to death and emotionally traumatized had they been through the same ordeals as I had. But I wasn't normal, and I was no delicate, fragile noble young lady made of glass who cracked under the slightest bit of strain.  
  
I was as Ona most unflatteringly put it 'tough as old boots,' and the mark only aroused my curiosity, not any sense of real fear.  
  
Looking at the one remaining grass robe, I frowned; and then pried open one of the many tiles and slipped the robe through. I didn't want anyone to see it yet.  
  
I opened the door and stood on the wide balcony. Breathes of fresh air hit me and I smiled, feeling the sun on my face. No matter how worried I am, it's impossible for me to be sad with the morning dawn sun on my face. I'm strange like that, and like the way I hate all seasons except for autumn and spring.  
  
Rerlre, capital city of Thyreles looked beautiful in the dawn light. I'd never been outside the first wall that contained the noble's district and wealthy merchants like my own family, but from what I'd read and what I'd heard later in the servant's quarters, Rerlre was separated into five different districts.  
  
The first was enclosed by high walls, which were impossible to scale. The royal palace and nobles and rich merchants lived here. Over the distance, I could just make out the second wall, a well-kept district with respectable buildings and shops. Commoners lived there and craftsman's and merchants made up most of the professions.  
  
The third district, segmented by a wide track, housed commoners, bars and tavern and most of the cities population lived there, hardworking and honest people. The third district ended as the River Mere flowed through, slicing the city in two. Inns lined the edge of river as sightseers often came to great ports and industries that made up the forth district which was even more heavily defended than the walls of the first district.  
  
Lastly, the fifth district. This was the reason why the fourth district was so heavily defended. It was a maze of twisted roads and cobbled streets, with rowdy bars and pleasure taverns. Every child of the city has grown up hearing about the fifth district, how murders and drunks lurked at every corner, with sharp knives that could slice through your throat like butter... Most people returning home or visiting bypassed going through this district, preferring to take the side road which led to the bridge that crossed River Mere and forked to the forth district.  
  
A bell tolled, it's heavy sound echoing around the square. I frowned as its dull gongs disturbed the peace of the morning. Why was it ringing? Only for royal marriages or deaths or on holidays it ring. Or for public notices of importance.  
  
Like executions.  
  
I gasped. Pulling on a on a pair of outrageously old shoes and wrapping a grubby green cloak around me and tying back my thick masses of ruddy hair away from my face, I ran down the stairs and unlocked the door. To my surprise, no one tried to stop me. I had a feeling that Ona had commanded them not to.  
  
I ran all the way to the square, my feet hitting the cobbled ground hard. A crowd of servants from various estates and as was the rule; the head from every House had turned up.  
  
Elaine, disgusting woman, was already there, her pug face eager and spiteful. Jewel had not turned up. She was probably at the Rotenburg House for Baroness Gavotte's party. No doubt there would be plenty of young suitors for her to flirt with there.  
  
They led Silvia up. Even wearing a thin tattered dirt smeared gray dress; she still looked beautiful, with her long white hair whipping around her face, and her back straight proud and defiant. I could see the young noble men who had come to represent their Houses look at her, their chests heaving and eyes filled with lust.  
  
Watching her, an odd mixture of feelings consumed me. It makes me sound heartless, but I was not sad, only regretful and angry that such a cruel being such as Elaine could order the death of someone. She was my half sister, but we had not been brought up to like each other. The hate in our household canceled out most love and affection.  
  
The post stood, straight and stiff. A taut rope hung from the top, and a stool was below it. The Executioner stood beside it, his face cool and impassive under a cold metal mask, muscled arms crossed. A priest in his black robes stood beside him, his pale face sweating as he performed the old rituals with his sacred Prayer Magic, required for the execution.  
  
As was her right, the priest offered her one chance for redemption for painless death by poison if she confessed of practicing dark magic against the king. Come on Silvia, I thought. Lie and confess. Everybody knew that death by poison was virtually painless, and you could die peacefully.  
  
She shook her head, and not a word dropped from her lips.  
  
The Priest nodded to the executioner, and Silvia stepped up on the stool  
  
There was a terrible jolt, and the earth shook. I could feel something going on, a lurching of the land below me. The ground tumbled and roared against me. The air was thick and heavy through my lungs. The small trees surrounding the crowd expanded and grew taller and taller. I could hear the rush of movement behind me like the lurching and tumbling of waves. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the blue green of the sea, and the brilliant red of the fire.  
  
The strange thing was, I could sense these changes, but nobody else could. The priest could though. His eyes were a terrible pale blue and his mouth was open. He held up his hands in a pathetic parody of resistance, before a burst of darkness consumed him.  
  
It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It was like with my two eyes I could see two different scenes. With one eye, my brain vaguely registered the priest having a heart attack, and the crowd-rushing forward to help him. In the other, I was in a terrifying world of color and flame.  
  
Yes, alright, I was terrified.  
  
The priest was no longer there. In his place was a withering worm of darkness, fast consumed. Flame, Water, Darkness, Wind and other forces I could not yet identify rose up to consume him.  
  
And in this center of this chaos, was my sister.  
  
She was a shining beacon of purple light, and her eyes were two deep red pits of hatred. They were searching calculatingly around. I could tell that she sensed my presence, and I cowered from it. I cowered, and hid myself.  
  
'Come out... I can sense your presence...' Her voice was like the slide of a snake and the braying of mares.  
  
I struggled against her command and ran, and as the two realities emerged into one again, I heard her hiss;  
  
'I will find you, and defeat you Rose girl. And you will be sorry.' ~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~*^~ Review A/N It doesn't seem to have much to do with B&B at the moment but it will soon, I promise that all this is crucial to the plot. 


	3. Bella

*~  
  
In every fairytale, there is almost always an evil witch, a princess in distress, and a handsome prince who defeats the witch and rescues the girl, and they live happily ever after in a pink glittery castle surrounded by fluffy clouds and rainbows and sunshine.  
  
In my fairytale, a clumsy servant girl who used to be a lady, is meet up against her own sister in a horribly twisted tale that ends in confusion, and all is definitely not well.  
  
I walked home in a daze, and amazingly didn't even trip over anything on the way. Silvia had just killed a senior priest with her dark magic. I was there, and watching helplessly onwards. And she had seen me, and threatened to come after me... It had been devastating seeing her murder in cold blood without even flinching.  
  
How had she become like this? When had she become so cold, so frightening?  
  
And most importantly, was I to become the heroine of this story?  
  
*~  
  
I settled into my new position in the house comfortably.  
  
I had changed quite a bit from the pampered young lady I had been only days ago. No longer was I Lady Charmaine of the Tage House. I was now Isabella, Ona's 'niece', who worked as a servant in the kitchen.  
  
The servants accepted me without discrimination. Most of them were sent away soon, as Elaine could no longer pay for all of their services. I saw Jewel quite often in the distance. She no longer looked like the wild butterfly party girl, but was tip toeing around the house, worn out and worried.  
  
Father was hadn't come home for a while, still on his travels. The King seemed to have put us out of his head of the moment at least, and forgotten completely about his head Merchant.  
  
Silvia was said to have used her evil witchcraft to kill the priest, and in retaliation the Lady has supposedly fizzled her with thunder bolts.  
  
Just shows how idiotic nobles can be...  
  
I actually enjoyed working as a slave/servant better than my old life. The work was hard, but it was better than sitting on a window seat and trying to pointlessly embroider little tiny flowers.  
  
When I had the time, I would sneak down into the library and look in old ancient magic books for the purpose of the cloaks. The one remaining cloak remained under the loose tile, carefully hidden. None of them mentioned anything at all. I was beginning to give up on ever figuring out the mystery.  
  
Father came home one day with gifts for the whole household from the city of Teora in Aria, the city of magic. I'd read that it was the city of Mages, Seers, Healers and other magic uses. Magic was forbidden in Thyreles, and had been for centuries constrained to allow priests and healers to use their magic, but every other form was forbidden, as Hrizan the 3rd had been a paranoid old git who thought that magic would take away his throne.  
  
Funny, isn't it how madness seems to run in families, with the present majesty dreaming about plots in his spare time.  
  
Anyway, I was clearing the path from leaves when he arrived, looking warn and dusty and tired. His cruel mocking face of the past had softened rather and he looked worn and wiser from his last visit.  
  
He looked at me without any recognition at all in his dark blue eyes, but he smiled like quite suddenly, and approached me.  
  
'Here girl, you remind me of someone I once knew. Bella... she has purple eyes just like yours, and her hair was the same beautiful colour of red and gold...'  
  
I looked at him, my eyes wide. Could he be talking about my mother?  
  
Father, who was really no father of mine seeing as he did not recognise his youngest daughter dressed in rags right in front of him, reached into one of his bags and pulled out a deep scarlet rose, it's edges lined with sweet threads of gold, and gave it to me.  
  
'Bella loved roses. I rode past a bush full, and as they reminded me of her, I picked one to place on her grave... but here, I have an extra,' he murmured, lost in his own memories.  
  
I fingered the rose. My perspective of him had changed completely. He was no longer the nasty, cruel shadow of the long past who did not recognise his own daughters one who had sunk deep into evil, but a sorrowful man who lived in his past mourning for his lost love, Bella, who could possibly be my mother.  
  
I no longer hated him. He was simply a human being who had loved once and lost and had so strayed down the wrong path.  
  
*~ 


	4. Enchantment

This chapter is for babyjay, CrimsonEnchantress and kaio who've reviewed every chapter! I love you guys! You get a big golden star because I like you! And for all my other beautiful reviewers!  
  
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I placed the rose in a glass of water in my lonely attic. It looked truly beautiful, the scarlet petals deep red, veined with fine streaks of gold against the dullness of the white washed walls. The many layers of petals clustered and kissed together to form a bell slowly blooming up into a spurt of loose plumes of tender color. Loose leaves wounds around the stem coyly tickling the thorns and softening their points.  
  
There was a passage I read in a book once about red roses.  
  
Roses are the symbol of the deepest love and respect. They are the totem floras of the Lady, and they are used in the unbinding of curses and enchantment. The red rose is also a sign of passion and agony, for it is said that the first red rose was created when the Lady bleed onto a pure white rose to save her homeland.  
  
For the deepest love and respect. He must have loved his Bella a lot, to mourn her death so deeply.  
  
In a rare time of sentimental flight, I leaned over and kissed the rose before climbing into my thin bed.  
  
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The day started out like every other. The sun rose, as did I, and I climbed down the winding stairs of the house.  
  
There was a strange, almost eerie silence that radiated across the whole house. Ona gave me my chores with a grim smile on her face, and attacked the floors with the broom, as she did when she was feeling a particularly vehement mood.  
  
The servants seemed more subdued than usual, I thought, as I scrubbed the dishes. I wondered what was going on. All those I saw wore identical expressions of worry... and perhaps even... fear?  
  
A wild sobbing rose from one of the manor's many locked doors as I passed. Curious, I leaned my ear against the wall and listened. There was a hum of voices from beyond the wood, one that I recognized as Elaine's, and a deeper, unfamiliar voice I supposed was fathers. The sobbing seemed to be coming from my hysterical half sister Jewel.  
  
'Banished! For treason to the King! Oh why... why?'  
  
'Hush Jewel,' Elaine replied in a sharp voice. 'Father, what is to become of us?'  
  
There was a sigh, and a long silence.  
  
'We shall be sent away from court, to one of our mountain estates, far away from all whispers of nobles, so the King shall see that I am not plotting against him. The servants, I expect, shall be executed, fort not reporting our disloyalty earlier.'  
  
I gasped. Executed? For something that they had no part in, for something not even true, only imaged up in the mind of a mad king? T'was mad! I turned around, and found that I was not the only eavesdropping servant. Shock, and a wild, animal like fear was imprinted on every face, mirrored to look the same by identical emotions imprinted.  
  
The door swung open, and with years of practiced skill, the servants slipped away silently. My reflexes not being as fast, I almost fell into the open door space.  
  
It was Father. His dark blue eyes were oddly blazing as he surveyed me, and I opened my mouth to speak, brandishing my feather duster uselessly.  
  
'I know you. You're Bella's child, are you not?' he demanded, his grip on my arm painful.  
  
Bella? Who was this mysterious woman? Was she my mother, from a past I could not possibly hope to recall?  
  
'Sir, I have no idea of what...'  
  
His grip tightened, and I winced.  
  
'You do not speak like a servant, and nor do you act like one. I say this now, for I shall not be able to say it again- I am not your father. I housed you, under a vow made for her, sealed by my love. I swore I would see to you until your 16 th birthday. But I say this now- Lady or servant you may be- flee. Flee, for you will get no joy here. I expect that many others will have left already. Heed my warning well.'  
  
He turned to go away, releasing my arm.  
  
'Wait! Sir... why? Who is my mother? Tell me this sir, I demand of you!' I cried desperately. The veil of mystery obscuring my heritage was beginning to unravel slowly, thread by thread.  
  
Turning around, he smiled suddenly.  
  
'You are much like her, in your stubbornness. It seems that we have all been under enchantment, even I. The charm was absolute whilst it lasted, but now I can talk. Your mother was a lovely lady from Teora, a powerful magic user to say the very least, that I fell in love with. We spent many happy days together...' he sighed wistfully, and I could see the pain in his eyes, clouded by memories.  
  
'But she too, was under spell, as she explained. You were her baby, a child she told me "was born to a great destiny", and as she wasted away, under a illness that no body could cure, she cast her own enchantment on me. An Enchantment that would secure you under my care, until you were 16, and at that time I would not remember your true heritage...or Bella herself,' he winced suddenly, as if he had a great pain.  
  
I winced too, as the pieces fell slowly into place. The man, who was not my Father as I had thought him to be for over sixteen years, turned around, and his eyes seemed to soften slightly.  
  
'You are, greatly like your mother, Charmaine. I wish you all the luck in the world, for I could have loved you... and Bella...so much, if only she had allowed it,' he said softly, swallowing.  
  
I turned, and ran.  
  
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My belongings thrown hastily and quickly into a Hessian bag, I walked away slowly from the manor I had lived in all my life. Servants carrying similar bags fled, sometimes doging glance behind them.  
  
I walked. I did not know were I was going, or what I was doing, but I walked away.  
  
Not once did I look back.  
  
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Helloooo! Like it? Like it? Like it? Like it? Like it? Like it?  
  
Review! You get a chocolate bar if you do. Promise!  
  
Ok, I'm on a high. I should be finishing my English now...  
  
Info about the story: This story is going to have about 20 chapters, and then over. It might take me a while to get the chapters down because there are still a billion ways this can go, and I have to decide which one. My other stories that I've removed won't be back for a bit until I feel like getting off my lazy ass and editing it... Also Perfectly Imperfect WILL BE CONTINUED! Yay! *Smiles Happily*  
  
But anyways, I might not be updating for a while cos school's started and I pretty busy.  
  
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